


these feet (dance only for you)

by aliaaaaaa



Series: webgottrash tumblr prompts [70]
Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff without Plot, M/M, Slow Dancing, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-20
Updated: 2016-08-20
Packaged: 2018-08-09 22:36:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7819957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliaaaaaa/pseuds/aliaaaaaa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>David Webster was not one for dancing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	these feet (dance only for you)

**Author's Note:**

> for Taylor, who asked for Liebgott and Webster slow dancing, just holding each other and rocking a little to the music.
> 
> and for myself for being a major sap. 
> 
> this has been beta-read by [Aria](http://liebgottshersheybar.tumblr.com/). all mistakes are mine.

Despite his upbringing, David Webster was not one for dancing. Sure, there were the occasional mandatory parties that he had to attend during his family weekends in the Hamptons. But even then he didn’t dance; preferring to hide inside the small library at the East Wing, reading on Kafka and Nietzsche instead.

It wasn’t because he couldn’t dance.

He _could_ dance because his Mother spent money to send him and his siblings to Proper Etiquette Class and the stern teacher taught them how to dance; Traditional Foxtrot and Waltz mostly because she didn’t like the Swings.

_(It is not an appropriate dancing style for girls and boys from proper family!)_

He just _wouldn’t_ dance.

Dancing required him to stand too close to someone he barely knew–usually under his mother’s scheme to match-make him with some rich man’s daughter–holding said person like he cared about her. It required him to make small talk about something that he had no interest in and fake a smile until his face felt so stiff.

Suffice to say, he hated dancing.

_(“Maybe because you just haven’t found the right partner yet,” Ann said to him one night when he was tying the soft sash of her periwinkle blue dress._

_He had smiled at her and murmured a soft “Maybe”, as if he was humoring her still 16-year-old romantic heart.)_

Then the war happened and he was surprised that even though the world was in turmoil, these soldiers still found time to dance every weekend. All dressed up in their neatly pressed dress uniform, courting girls from the bars and pulling them to dance on the packed floor.

Letting loose and having fun; living on borrowed time.

_(“You gotta stop bein a party-pooper and live a little, Web!” Bill had chided him one night, when he refused the invitation to dance for the fifth time in a row._

_He just shrugged his shoulder nonchalantly and replied, “Don’t feel like dancing” around the glass of his warm beer, ignoring the disappointed looks thrown at his way by the pretty ladies flocking the smokey bar._

_“If Webster here didn’t wanna grace the ladies with his too pretty face, then I’d sacrifice myself to give them some fun time,” Tab said gleefully as he smoothly slid his way to the ladies and introduced himself.)_

It came as a surprise to him then when he found himself slow dancing with Liebgott in the middle of the empty hotel room in Zell am See with the sound of Strauss blaring softly from the gramophone, dressed in their shabby uniforms; an obvious contrast with the wealth of the room.

He didn’t know what possessed him to move closer and take Lieb’s hand in his.

Maybe it was the soft smile on Lieb’s face as he heard the first note of the piano when the needle dropped. Or maybe it was the way Lieb’s usually hard eyes turned soft when the man turned to face him and offer his hand.

“Dance with me,” Lieb said, smiling teasingly when he saw the hesitant look in Web’s clear blue eyes.

“Come on, Web! Dance with me!”

He took Lieb’s hand and clasped it firmly in his while his other arm sneaked around Lieb’s narrow waist and rested on his lithe back. Lieb casually placed his hand on Webster’s broad shoulder, pulling himself towards Web until they were almost nose to nose, grinning impishly when Web started to flush prettily.

“I’ll lead,” he murmured softly, ducking his head to avoid Lieb’s sharp eyes as they moved slowly to the rhythm of the cello, bodies pressing close that Web could feel the warmth of Lieb’s skin seeping through his clothes into his own.

“You’ll lead, huh?" Lieb followed Web’s gentle movements as he let himself be led. “Do you even know how to dance, Web? Because I’ve never seen you at the dance floor ever.” 

They moved as if they had done this before, synchronizing their steps as they built their own rhythms; blistered feet inside their heavy combat boots knocking against one another as they swayed effortlessly. 

Webster turned Liebgott on his spot so suddenly that a surprised squeak was heard and he dipped Lieb low until all he could see was Lieb’s pale neck and the shadow of his sharp jawline; his dog tags glinted in the streaming sunlight. He caught Lieb by his waist to steady him and pulled him up by his arm. When they were facing each other again, he grinned when Lieb narrowed his eyes at him.

“Show off,” Lieb muttered.

They moved again; following each other’s rhythms instead of the music. All he could hear was the brush of his clothes against Lieb’s clothes. All he could feel was the smooth skin of Lieb’s cheek resting against his neck.

He dipped his head a bit to gently knock his chin on Lieb’s forehead.

“Why didn’t you ever dance before?” Lieb asked after a while, his warm breaths puffed against Web’s skin.

Web swayed their bodies gently, tightening his arms around Lieb’s back and pulled the scrawny man flushed against his bulky frame.

“Never felt like dancing before,” Web explained, his lips brushing Lieb’s forehead as he talked.

Lieb shifted in Web’s arms to look at Web, tracing the contour of Web’s face; noting the freckles sprinkled on Web’s nose and the way his eyes appeared to be so blue in the soft morning light.

“And now you feel like dancing?” Lieb asked, leaning his face closer to Web’s, tenderly brushing their noses as he moved his arms to wrap around Web’s neck.

Web closed the remaining distance between them; brushing Lieb’s soft, red mouth with his own, slotting them together with an ease practice. Lieb hummed happily and opened his mouth pliantly for Web to explore.

They stopped moving, even when the music was still blaring from the gramophone, they stopped swaying. Exchanging heated kisses that dissolved into soft brushes of lips against lips. Their hands roaming everywhere, gripping firmly, trying to get closer still.

When they parted, gasping for air, Web leaned his forehead on Lieb’s, smiling when he felt Lieb kissed the tip of his nose.

He pulled Lieb into his arms once again.

“Feel like dancing now that I found the right partner,” Web whispered.

Lieb raised an eyebrow and asked teasingly, “Oh yeah? Who’s the lucky bastard?”

Web looked into Lieb’s soft brown eyes, brushing his calloused fingers against Lieb’s jawline and replied, “You.”

Lieb hooked his arms around Web’s neck and tenderly murmured, “Sap.”

Then they moved again, with Web’s soft laughter echoing in the room, with Lieb’s blinding smile lighted up the space; swaying to the rhythms of their singing hearts.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! kudos and comments are very much appreciated!


End file.
